


Watson's corporal

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Captain John Watson, Dog Tags, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Military Kink, Needy Sherlock, slow fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a military kink. Captain John Watson has his own corporal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's corporal

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Penis Friday!

  
Sherlock was moaning softly, John's deft, thick fingers moving in and out of his ass. He could feel the delicious drag of the slightly calloused skin against his tender insides, every ridge of the doctor's fingertips flaring his nerves. Sherlock squirmed, pushing his backside a little more back, exposing it a little more. A silent plea for John to finally take him, own him, fuck him, god... anything.

The doctor just chuckled and pushed the third digit inside, still avoiding Sherlock's sweet spot. The detective groaned, frustrated, and rested his head on the bed, cuffs restraining his arms behind his back tugging at his muscles painfully.

 

They had been at it for an hour already, John opening Sherlock painfully slowly, firstly with his tongue, then with one finger, two, three... Now Sherlock was at his wits end, mad with pleasure and painfully frustrated. He moaned low in his throat, fists clenching at the small of his back.  
  
“Sir... please” Sherlock groaned, and John grinned. He loved this. Sherlock came back from Scotland Yard – another case cracked – and demanded tea and dinner. Of course the good doctor was not in the mood to listen to the whiny detective, so he just ignored the requests, reading his medical journal. Half an hour later Sherlock was sitting on the couch, mumbling something under his nose, still hungry and without his tea.  
  
And that's when John smelled it. The acrid, burning smell of rich tobacco. He glanced up and yes... of course, Sherlock was smoking a cigarette. John huffed, closed the magazine and threw it on the floor. The detective glanced up at him, taking another drag, holding it in for a moment and puffing it out.

 

John snapped.  
  
“That's enough!” He growled, shooting from his armchair and striding to the lanky man, sprawled on the couch. He took the cigarette out of his hand, took a long drag himself and puffed it in Sherlock's stunned face.  
  


“What the hell did I tell you about smoking indoors!?” He snapped, taking another drag. Sherlock blinked slowly.  
“No good?”  
“Very bloody no good” John answered, voice harsh and, taking one last drag, expertly flicked the cigarette into the fireplace. Sherlock watched it land there, blinking again at the fluidity of John's moves. God, he must have been smoking when he was in Afghanistan... The detective's eyes darted up to his lover again and there it was, the military stance, jaw set and back straight.  
  
Sherlock swallowed thickly, devouring Captain John Watson with his eyes.  
“Sorry... sir” he purred, placing both of his feet on the floor and resting his hands atop of his thighs. John blinked once, slowly. Then blinked again. And then a wide, evil grin spread on his face, predatory and dangerous.  
  
Sherlock swallowed again, averted his gaze and set his lips shut.  
“I didn't hear it” John growled. “Look at me, corporal” he hissed. The detective closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at John.  
“I'm sorry sir” he mumbled. The other man just grabbed his hair, twisting his head to make Sherlock look him in the eyes.  
“Sorry is not enough. You've broken the rule. What did I tell you about breaking my rules?” He growled, his nose less than an inch away from Sherlock's. The detective licked his lips before answering.

 

“If I break your rules, Captain, I would be punished... sir” he whispered it slowly, trying to hold John's intense stare and failing. He averted his eyes again, looking at the floor between the ex-soldier's legs.  
“Damn right, boy. Down you go” and with this, John shoved Sherlock to his knees, his eyes now level with the shorter man's crotch.  
  
He was wearing his dark green trousers, they weren't exactly his combat khakis, but Sherlock had seen those enough times to plant them on his dear John by the sheer force of imagination. The hand gripping his hair was removed, and the detective looked up curiously to see John unbuttoning his plain boring shirt, revealing creamy tank-top underneath it. The detective had to lick his lips when he saw what was hanging around John's neck...  
  
“Oh...” he shifted his gaze to his lover's face and saw that John was smirking.  
“I know you want them” he tugged at his dog-tags lightly, making the chain jingle.  
“Please, sir...”  
“But first, you have to work for them, soldier” and that was all the warning he got, before John turned him around and pressed face-first into the couch. He grabbed both of Sherlock's lanky hands, pinned them at the small of his back and leaned froward.  
  
“All rules apply, Sherlock, as always. Remember your safe word?” He licked the detective's ear, making him shiver.  
“Yes, sir. Red, sir” the dark haired man trembled, feeling John pressing him to the couch. He felt a slight movement to his right, saw a glimpse of John's hand moving right beside his thigh...  
  
Handcuffs, Sherlock's mind provided from afar. Handcuffs you left there after last session on the couch... And yes, they were now securing his hands behind his back, soft leather fastened in place, tugging all the right muscles in his arms. He moaned softly, feeling the stretch. Suddenly, John's voice was again in his ear, puffing hot air with every word.  
  
“And now your punishment, corporal. I'm going to open you, slowly, so slowly that you will be begging me to fuck you” clever fingers undid his trousers and started to tug them down.  
  
“Then I will sink into you, inch by inch...” his pants joined his trousers, bunched up around his thighs.  
  
“And when you will no longer stand the slow friction of my hot, thick cock inside you” John's hands lifted him up, spun him around and pulled him nose to nose with his captain.  
  
“I will fuck you until you beg me to stop” he licked Sherlock's closed lips, lowered himself onto one knee to get rid of the trousers and pants and led the detective to their bedroom.  
  
And there Sherlock was, kneeling on their bed, shirt bunched up around his cuffed wrists, delirious with pleasure as John fucked him with expert fingers. He could barely stand it, going slowly mad, body shivering and mind going off-line.  
  
Finally the fingers were removed, leaving him empty and whimpering.  
“S-sir?” He whined, trying to twist his head back to look at his captain. Before he could do so, however, a pair of strong, warm hands tugged him upwards, making him kneel with his back straight. He could feel John's comforting weight on his back, warm chest pressed up against his heated skin.

 

“Shh... You've been so good” his captain whispered into his ear, licking the shell and sucking on the delicate skin of his neck. The detective heard the sound of a zipper opening, a rustle of fabric. He closed his eyes...  
  
Finally, finally his John, his captain would give him what he craved...  
  
“And now, not a word, not even one sound, understood?”  
  
The detective's eyes popped open at this. Surely he misheard...  
“That's an order, corporal. Not even one sound from you, or it all ends” and with that John pushed his... oh, lubed and slick cock slowly into Sherlock's hole.  
  
The detective sighed and John immediately stopped moving, one hand winding around the other man's belly, pressing him up against his chest, the other running over his thigh, butterfly touches leaving Sherlock half mad with need.  
  
“Last warning. Understood? Silence from now on” the captain growled and waited for Sherlock's obedient nod. Only then did he start to move again. Slowly, oh so slowly....  
  
Sherlock wanted to push back on him, wanted John to bury himself to the hilt... But he kept sliding in, only in.... God, how long was he? Sherlock knew well, it wast just the slow and painfully arousing motion that made him seem longer than in reality. The detective screwed his eyes shut, trying not to whine in frustration. Inch after inch, John slowly filled him whole.  
  
He didn't stop there, though. As soon as he was filled up, Sherlock felt John start to move out, again painfully slow, making the younger man buck in wild desperation. He wanted John to fuck him hard and fast and now now now now... And yet, the good captain was slowly moving in and out of him, always so slowly, dragging the movement as long as he could.  
  
The slick slide of his cock inside the tight passage didn't provide Sherlock with enough friction to push him even remotely close to the edge. He was desperate to get any kind of stimulation, other than the wonderful feeling of fullness in his ass, that is. He pushed back again, twisted and squirmed in place, arms trapped behind him rendering him unable to really move. John's arm tightened around him and he continued to drag himself in and out of the detective.  
  
Sherlock screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip to the point of bleeding when his captain finally found his prostate and started to move the tip of his member over it. He gave one particularly hard thrust, much quicker than the rest, and Sherlock jolted, lips opening in a silent cry.  
  
He felt one hand cupping his cheek, turning his face to the side. John kissed him hungrily, moaning wantonly, sucking and biting his lower lip.  
“You did wonderful” the captain whispered when they parted for breath. Sherlock just nodded, squirming, trying to buck back and impale himself on the shaft still moving in and out of him at a lazy pace...  
  
“You can speak now, soldier” John licked his lower lip, trailing kisses over his cheek and down his neck. Sherlock moaned at last, grateful for the possibility. His voice turned thick from arousal and raspy from panting.  
“Speak up, corporal” John drove his hips faster now, gripping Sherlock's hips and tugging him backward into his every move. The detective leaned a little forward, the slight shift giving John a wonderful opportunity to abuse his prostate with every harsh thrust.  
  
“Jo... Captain, sir... Oh... my god! Please! Sir...” the detective babbled, feeling himself nearing the edge. He was so close, if John would just... just a little bit....  
  
He felt one warm hand gently running down his back, then to his entrance, stretched tightly over John's cock. Curious fingers ran over the delicate rim, before one of them wormed its way inside, beside the captain's moving member.  
  
That was too much for Sherlock, whose nerves fired all at once, vision going blurry at the edges. The detective keened, bucked wildly and stilled, his climax hitting him with wild force. His mind filled with white noise and he wasn't aware of what was going on around him. When he came to himself, he was lying on his back, covered with blanket and with John snuggled up against him.  
  
“Hullo” John smirked, running his hand through Sherlock's dark curls.  
“Mmmmm” the detective purred, trying to turn to his side.  
  
Something jingled near his arm.  
  
Sherlock shifted a little and looked down. Two silver plates attached to a silver chain were hanging from his neck, slipping down from his chest, defeated in fight with gravitation. John's dog-tags. He took them in hand, looking curiously... Something was wrong.  
  
They looked different. Somehow heavier, more shiny... He looked closer and, no. They weren't John's dog-tags. The inscription was different, they were silver, and they were new. When he finally glanced up, John was smiling happily.  
“Do you like them?” He asked shyly.  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, pounced on him and snogged him senseless. Later, when John fell asleep, Sherlock was running his fingertips over the delicate inscription.  
  
 _Corporal Sherlock Holmes._  
  
Property of Captain John Watson.


End file.
